


Dreams

by doylesmom



Series: Claudeleth Week 2020 [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 5+1 Fic, Background Hilda, Background Lorenz, Background Raphael, Claudeleth Week (Fire Emblem), Claudeleth week 2020, F/M, Pre-Relationship, time skip fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25473052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doylesmom/pseuds/doylesmom
Summary: The five times Byleth dreams of Claude, and the one time she doesn’t
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Series: Claudeleth Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838485
Comments: 14
Kudos: 117
Collections: Claudeleth Week 2020





	Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy y’all! Thanks for tuning in to day 5 of Claudeleth week. The prompt I went with is ”Dreams”. Enjoy!

one

  
Byleth dreams of Claude.

She sees him, from a distance. The battle of Garreg Mach is over, and nothing remains but smoke and bodies and rubble and ruins. She sees him with Hilda, Lorenz, Raphael. She does not know where the rest of her beloved students are.

She does not want to think about where they could be.

Byleth watches as the group picks their way through the debris, sooty and bandaged and weary. War is hard, she thinks. Her father had told her as much. But war with those you had once called friends? A new kind of unbearable.

The day wears on, and BYleth watches as her students, her friends, turn over stones, bury remains. They’re systematic in the way they do it, their eyes glazing over as they take in the horrors of war. She wishes she could ease their burden.

As the hours pass she watches as Claude grows more and more despondent until finally the moon is risen high in the sky and Hilda approaches him, her face grief stricken. She says something to Claude, quiet and gentle in a way that Byleth has never seen from her pink haired student before.

Claude turns, looks to the ravine. Gestures to it. His eyes, at least, are still hopeful.

Hilda shakes her head.

Claude turns away so that Hilda cannot see him. But Byleth can still see his face.

Claude is crying.

two

Byleth dreams of Claude.

He looks older, somehow. It takes her a moment to figure out why. He isn’t any taller, but there’s a new broadness to his shoulders, turning him from lanky towards something more mature. His customary braid is longer, too, brushing against his shoulder in the night breeze. He is dressed down, and the circles under his eyes are deeper, darker.

The scenery is unfamiliar to her. Gilded buildings and intricate stone archways line narrow, tree covered streets below. In the distance she hears the steady rhythm of waves against a shore.

She thinks he must be in Derdriu.

Someone knocks on his door, and instantly he stands at alert, turning from his balcony to enter a plush bedchamber. He calls out, and someone enters. A servant, from the looks of it. She watches as the man bows respectfully before handing Claude a sealed parchment scroll. The servant quickly exits, and Claude is alone once more.

There is a worrying weariness to him as he sits at the desk in the corner of the room and lights a candle. He opens the scroll. His face remains impassive as he reads, but when he finishes he lets out a long, quiet sigh and leans forward, resting his head against the desk.

“I wish you were here, friend.” He whispers into the dark.

_ I am here, Claude,  _ she wishes she could say.  _ I am here _ .

three

Byleth dreams of Claude.

Claude is bent over a map, and Byleth wishes she could make out the details of it. His hair is longer, wilder, and it falls into his face as he studies the topography before him. He points to an area on the map, tapping it with his fingers as he speaks to a gathered group sitting around a large wooden table.

Several make faces at his suggestion. One man, his purple hair pulled into an elegant topknot, scoffs outright. Claude glances almost desperately at Lorenz, who stands behind the man, but Lorenz does not notice.

A few, the purple haired man and Lorenz included, get up and leave the room. Claude moves as though to stand up, to go after them, go after his friend, but a wrinkled hand on his shoulder stops him. Claude looks up at the man leaning over him.

Byleth does not recognize the man, but his brilliant green eyes are all too familiar.

The man says something, shakes his head. Claude slumps almost imperceptibly in his seat, but returns his focus to the remaining crowd before him.

four

Byleth dreams of Claude.

She almost doesn’t recognize him at first. He’s training, clad only in loose black pants and boots, his shirt and jacket discarded to some far corner of the arena. Where he was once lean and lanky, he now has thick, corded muscles, which strain with each swing of his axe, and a light dusting of hair on his chest. His jaw is wider, and she swears she sees stubble on it when the light hits his face. His braid now wraps all the way around his head, and it almost looks as though he is using it to keep his hair from his eyes.

Clever.

He attacks the next training dummy with a ferocious, personal force, a cry escaping from his lips at the effort of it. 

The doors to the arena swing open. Hilda is there, older and more beautiful as well.

Her face is distraught. 

Claude drops his axe and runs for his shirt, and together the two run from the room.

Bells toll in the distance.

five

Byleth dreams of Claude.

He is resting against the side of an unsaddled wyvern, looking up at the stars. He lifts a flask to his lips and takes a long, slow drink before sighing.

“Hilda thinks I’m crazy, you know.” He says to the stars. “Some days I’m inclined to agree with her.”

He’s silent for a moment.

“You know, I never thought I would be here. Leading the Alliance, fighting a three way war, still chasing the ghost of a woman who hasn’t been seen since the Battle of Garreg Mach. Most of our friends think you’re dead, you know.”

He laughs to himself.

“Maybe you are dead. Maybe I’m talking to a ghost right now. Maybe I’m talking to nothing. But I can’t seem to give up on you, Byleth.”

Byleth stills. He’s talking to her? Dead? What?

And then he says it.

“I guess love really does that to a guy, huh?”

Love?

Claude loves her?

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Byleth.” Claude raises his flask to the moon. “Something tells me you’ll be there.”

_ I’ll be there, Claude. _ She promises.

one

Byleth dreams of Sothis.

“You… How long do you intend to sleep?”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/tzubakis/)


End file.
